Substance D
by Dr. Abraxas
Summary: A series of oneshots/drabbles/etc written in reply to several LJ comms.
1. Index

**001** **Paranoia** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-02-09  
Zuko attempts to confront his nameless and faceless nemesis one dark and stormy night.

**002** **Mother Do Not Leave Me** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-03-06  
A sympathetic guard watches as Azula spirals out of control.

**003** **Accident** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-03-13  
Sokka finds it exciting to flash Toph. He thinks he gets away with it because she can't see what he's doing. Is she so innocent?

**004** **It Will Be Like This** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-03-27  
Zuko and Sokka get married by Momo after they spend a night at the royal family's Ember Island house.

**005** **Green Alike** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-04-03  
A Zuko monologue about his love for Sokka.

**006** **Whispered In The Dark** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-04-26  
Zuko and Sokka share a quiet moment while hiding out in the middle of the Boiling Rock Prison.

**007** **Tea As Microcosm** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-05-18  
An introspective piece with Iroh looking after Zuko while he's feverish in Ba Sing Se.

**008** **Hope Had Not Faded** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-06-20  
The Avatar bings hope to a lot of people in many different ways... Zuko wanders the streets of Ba Sing Se in search of a purpose to life - and then he finds it

**009** **To Fight By You, Beneath You** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-07-06  
Jeong-Jeong watches Piandao and is awestruck by the master's swordsmanship.  
**Avatar Contest 2009 Gorgeous Winner**

**010** **Metamorphosis** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-08-14  
(AU/AR) It retells a portion of the season 3 episode where Aang infiltrates that Fire Nation school. Seeing what the Fire Nation is doing to its own children, how it's suppressing its own people, he understands the true nature of its evil.

**011** **Just Zuko And Sokka In A Balloon** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-09-13  
Zuko and Sokka share a quiet and intimate moment aboard the balloon along the way to the Boiling Rock Prison.  
**Avatar Contest 2009 Dance Winner**

**012** **Where War Cannot Reach** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-09-20  
Bato tells Hakoda about his children and they rekindle their childhood romance.

**013** **Villain! Know Thy Mark!** | **T** | **Posted**: 2009-09-25  
Somebody wants revenge against the Avatar and his friends - but who could it be, this mysterious almost invisible figure and why is he putting flaming objects at the Avatar's doorstep?

**014** **Twisted** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-01-03  
Puberty - Female: about Katara's first ever menstruation.

**015** **What Are You Dreaming, Avatar?** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-01-03  
Puberty - Male: about Aang's first ever wet dream.

**016** **Kiss And Makeup** | **T** | **Posted**: 2010-01-04  
While hiding within the Boiling Rock Prison, Zuko attempts to make friends with Sokka, do the boys give in to their hormonal desires?

**017** **Water-Bender** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-01-05  
A twisted relationship between Hakoda and Katara.

**018** **Fire/Water** | **T** | **Posted**: 2010-01-06  
A short Zutara piece; Zuko doesn't do winter but seems to like the South Pole for some odd reason.

**019** **A Quiet Night Of Zukka** | **T** | **Posted**: 2010-01-09  
While sleeping together Zuko reminisces about the change that happened that year with Sokka.

**020** **Curiosity** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-01-09  
Sokka and Katara sure do share a strange brother sister bond.

**021** **Caught Red Handed** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-02-09  
Sokka catches Katara watching their father.

**022** **Katara - Rapist** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-02-10  
Katara pins Sokka to catch a glimpse of his penis.

**023** **A Scene At The Spa** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-02-10  
A moment between Sokka and Zuko while they bathe at a spa - it gets crashed by a friend who may or may not know what they're up to!

**024** **Boys Are Weird** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-02-10  
Sokka and Katara share a special incest moment while they fish off the waters of the South Pole.

**025** **The Story About The Socks** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-04-20  
Sokka gives into his curiosity after he finds Batto and Hakoda's very smelly socks - just what were those two up to?

**026** **Rebel The Flesh** | **T** | **Posted**: 2010-07-10  
Set during the Revolution, Piandao is a British soldier and Jeong Jeong is a Senecan Indian. They decide to desert the army while on march through the New York wilderness.

**027** **Katara And Sokka Have Two Daddies?** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-07-31  
Katara just loves to dominate her brother. Sokka tries but fails to keep his sister's hands off of him. But is this rape really what it seems to be? And what about Hakoda and Batto?  
**Hentai Contest 2010 Too Late 3rd Place**

**028** **It Belongs To You** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-08-05  
Sokka, a student at Ba Sing Se University (BSSU), is getting called constantly by a pervert. Who could it be? And what happens one hot, summer night when things go a little too far?  
**Hentai Contest 2010 Stalker 2nd Place**

**029** **I Can See Forever!** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2010-09-25  
The Cabbage Man propositions a woman to sit and watch him play with produce.  
**Hentai Contest 2010 Soliciting 3rd Place**

**030** **XOXOXO - Version 1** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2011-01-07  
Aang's one night stand with the insane sexual nympho that is Ty Lee (long version)

**031** **XOXOXO - Version 2** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2011-01-07  
Aang's one night stand with the insane sexual nympho that is Ty Lee (short version)

**032** **Today I'm On Holiday** | **MA** | **Posted**: 2011-07-26 **NEW **  
Jeong Jeong and Piandao, as Indian and Colonial respectively, awaken after a long night of love.  
**Hentai Contest 2011 Holiday 1st Place**


	2. Paranoia

**001** **"Paranoia"** by **Abraxas** 2009-02-09

He was not alone and he knew it. He was followed by that nemesis, real or imagined it did not matter. Anyone could have divulged the secret and how could it be denied when the obvious was etched across his face?

He knew somebody was following. Somebody was watching. Looking, perhaps, to unmask his identity. At first it was only that slight impression of antagonism, stirred by paranoia, dismissed as echoes of his past. At last, degree by degree, he realized it was not imagination

Somebody was there - there in the shadows, there in the darkness - there and following

The sun was setting. The sky was brewing into a storm. Night was the home of his antagonist.

Into his building - up and up onto its roof.

The rain was falling.

He fled toward the edge of the roof, slowing, crawling as if fearing his footsteps were revealing his guilt. He stopped and gazed aback. Silhouettes swirled. Crackle of tiles pressed into tiles. The suggestion of motion faraway yet closing.

It was his nemesis, like conscience incarnated, pricking and sticking his heart into confession.

A stillness atop the roof clashed with the storm. The rain intensified minute by minute. Drop after drop, collecting into pools, whiling into drains.

He stood upright, silent - and ready - as he imagined his antagonist stood.

"Strike, already, damn it!" he cursed.

Then, as if answering, a bolt flashed through the sky. It seared the air with its voltage, smoking the roof of a building nearby. For a moment the world was alive with its glow. The shock of it pained his eyes and he turned his face - and yet he swore, at last, he caught a glimpse of the enemy as it retreated.

**END**


	3. Mother Do Not Leave Me

**002** **"Mother Do Not Leave Me"** by **Abraxas** 2009-03-06

"I'll kill you, I'll crush you," she seethed, "I'll stop you - and smash you!"

The guard at the gate shook. He thought he would have been used to it yet the brutality of that image unfolding itself. What a shame. What a god damned shame. Was no family as warped?

He watched, helpless like a child, while the fallen fire princess continued that performance.

"Mother! She's here - here - here - can't you see it?"

She lay across the floor. Clothes so torn she was naked. Mind so warped she was shameless. Foaming at the mouth. Rattling side to side. The fit was punctuated by a wail. It seemed to be a word uttered with such passion its syllables melted into the vocalization of an animal. The totality of the fall was startling to see. Even the wildest, craziest prisoner required years of confinement to reach those depths of frenzy she charted in just days.

He pitied the woman although he kept that inclination masked. Only once were those feelings of empathy displayed. He attempted to hold her so those machinations of insanity did not injure her body. If it were not for the Fire Lord Zuko's healer he would have lost that arm to fire.

"Mother! Gods, will you not leave me alone?"

"Princess, please," the words escaped his lips without consent. "Azula."

He could not help but stand, frozen, as their eyes met a moment. She jumped onto the bars of the windows. They would not budge even at the fury of her head smashing their lengths. The sound of bone hitting metal echoed along with a cackle.

The guard sighed and walked away.

"Mother!" she exclaimed while pulling her hair, wet with blood. Tearing it. Ripping it. "Why?" She looked at her hands, clumps of hair between fingers, and collapsed.

**END**


	4. Accident

**003** **"Accident"** by **Abraxas** 2009-03-13

He claims it was accidental.

A child of the water, the ocean is a home, its power to cleanse a thing to be fond of. The others do not judge as strange that he dips into its waves. Naked except with straps of loincloth, he vanishes, sprinting, running into a spray of mist. Leaving only a bundle of white and blue skins atop rocks.

"Hey, look, it's naked guy again," his sister taunts.

Soon Aang joins the siblings.

Toph remains at the shore by the discarded articles of clothes - she is not amused.

The girl meditates, alone, when the boy re emerges so lost within thought she does not notice it.

Sokka collects his hair, wet long strands, into the knot of a tail. He stands, knee deep into the water, rocked side to side by waves, exaggerating the pose of triumph witnessed at a battle between earth-benders. Then - then he realizes the exposure!

In front of the girl the boy squirms panicked, frozen until he grasps Momo. He utters a string of apologies while the creature is kept against the display of that flesh. Toph raises eyebrows and Sokka remembers she does not see.

Momo breaks free of the grip.

Yes, he claims it was accidental, yet, while he burns with embarrassment, he does not correct that breach. He allows it to continue as if without shame. And now, aroused out of the trance, she talks and he talks and a conversation erupts.

A seed is planted by the thrill of the moment - he sees the girl differently and wonders what it would be if it progressed beyond a single sided exhibitionism.

It continues as a habit that accidental malfunction of wardrobe.

He is convinced she does not suspect it although she is always there. Always there. Waiting at the right time and space to play unsuspecting if not willing 'victim' of flashing.

"Sokka," she says sighing a yawn of boredom, "closer, please, Sokka."

"Toph?" he asks suddenly unexpectedly thrust outside of that comfort zone where he could be naked with a girl who could not see it.

"Sokka!" she continues, reaching toward the warrior. "Damn it, Sokka, what do you think you're doing? You know I can't see it when you're so far away."

**END**


	5. It Will Be Like This

**004** **"It Will Be Like This"** by **Abraxas** 2009-03-27

Zuko was stirred by the taste of Sokka - his eyes yawned and stared lazily into the light of daybreak.

The prince faced the warrior. Not a word passed from boy to boy. Only a smile. Bright yet exhausted by the event of that night. Arms wrapped about shoulders. Cheeks rested against cheeks. Breaths intermingled.

It was the lure of eyes and the tug of hands that implored Zuko to follow Sokka through the abyss of that Ember Island retreat. Into a corridor forgotten by time. Even Zuko could not recognize it. It must have been a wing of the house devoted to a husband and wife.

A slant of light oozed out of a chamber onto the floor - it was a cozy little room the Eskimo must have discovered.

Within it a window faced the horizon.

A sky of yellow streaked by wisps of silvery, curled mist. It was framed by the green against the gray of rocky, rugged slopes. The ocean could not be seen but its presence was revealed by a fragrance it kissed into the air.

Zuko and Sokka sat in front of that window many quiet moments watching the sunrise unfold.

Sokka reached Zuko's hand - their fingers sank between each other's and interlocked.

And then Momo appeared at the window.

They were shocked yet did not withdraw their forbidden touch.

The animal studied the boys. It zigzagged between water tribe and fire nation. It climbed their bodies, probed about their clothes and fussed with their hair. Then it placed its tinny, little hands atop their hands and with a chirp of contentment it vanished.

"Well, er, I guess it's official," Sokka joked.

Alone, again, now it was Zuko who kissed Sokka's lips.

"It will be like this," the prince whispered a promise into the warrior's ear.

**END**


	6. Green Alike

**005** **"Green Alike"** by **Abraxas** 2009-04-03

You lean against the window and I wonder what could be clouding those bright azure eyes. You stroke your head, still clean shaven, as if deep with contemplation. What do you see? What do you know? Your hands fold atop your lap and sigh - and as you gaze into the vista beyond I am overwhelmed by yet another revelation of your beauty.

I swear it, every minute we are together I discover another little detail about you that maddens me into seeking your contact. Like a moth to a flame I cannot help it - indeed - I do night fight it. The shaft like, rigid outline of hair and your tip like, fluffy tuft of tail. The sleek, flawless cheek adorned with that profile of your rugged features. There is such a look of raw masculinity that I tremble with ecstasy just looking at you. By the gods, what you awake within me, my warrior - a thousand exotic desires set sail into my fantasies.

Sokka, you feed the only part of my soul that wants to live.

Yet, as you sit by the window, I am struck by a thought. Are you unreachable? Like a wolf to its moon am I to you? Or, could it be, that this distance between us is the waking crumbling of a dream? That these last few days of bliss are products of imagination?

Sokka - I am not worthy of you. And I know it. That you accept me with my flaws. That you let me into your heart. That we bonded with this vow of marriage. This happiness is something I fear I do not deserve.

If I go too far, say it, and I return into that abyss out of which I crawled and I will not be anymore. You are the only thread of life that connects me with the rest of the world. In a universe without your love I do not wish to endure.

I reach your hand. Our fingers intertwine as they are wont to do: your dark mixes with my light. You squeeze and a smile escapes my lips. You face me and this mask of mine crumbles. I cannot bear it - I lean my head against your head - skin touching hair.

If I am fooled by illusion then I abdicate my soul to prolong it eternities.

"What is it?" I ask.

You wrap your arm about my waist.

"I miss home," you say simply revealing only the tip of the iceberg.

Awkwardness colors our relationship in spite of the love between us. It is natural. It is the first time for the two of us that we intimate with others of our own sex. We are green as the saying goes. A relationship burgeoning. Our unlikenesses learning to blend together.

"Wherever you go I go too," I vow.

You wipe the tear that wets my face.

"Zuko, you will have me, always, I'll never let you go. Never. Never. As much as you don't want to be let go that's how tight I want to be with you," you say as you squeeze the breath out of me.

We may be green alike but I know now it is real.

**END**


	7. Whispered in the Dark

**006** **"Whispered in The Dark"** by **Abraxas** 2009-04-26

The chamber was a pile of rubble. Unfinished walls. Snaking pipes. Forgotten pieces of furniture. It offered the perfect spot to hide within the Boiling Rock Prison. Firstly, that anyone would have broken into the prison. Lastly, that anyone would have sought cover surrounded by the refuse of its dungeon.

Sokka tiptoed into the closet. Zuko, laying against a wall, raised a lantern. The water boy settled with the fire boy. The light was extinguished and covered with a helmet. The prince kept the objects nearby out of fear of a worst case scenario.

The prince's head rested against the peasant's cheek.

There was very little light but just enough oozed into the chamber that Zuko caught Sokka's profile. He was struck by the warrior's raw masculine beauty. Even shadowed it was a face to be awed by, he thought, as he stared and sighed.

Sokka brushed about Zuko's hair. It was so outrageously unkempt and long yet he loved the exile's new look. As if blinded by love he thought it was adorable. It was that earlier clean shaven look he disapproved of - too many memories - the longhaired, messed up version, though, that was his Zuko.

Zuko could not resist it - he kissed the Inuit's cheek then wrapped his arms about his waist.

"What is it?" Sokka asked - the prince struggled to be cool and every now and then emotion filtered through the mask.

"Just missed kissing you," he whispered in the dark.

"Is that it?"

Sokka smiled - Zuko stirred catching its profile.

"I'd stay imprisoned, here, as long as I'm with you," he confessed. "Sokka, nobody anywhere is blessed with greater fortune than me because of you."

Sokka patted Zuko's cheek.

"Ah, you're just saying that to cheer me up," the warrior said smugly.

Zuko sighed and nestled against Sokka's shoulder.

**END**


	8. Tea as Microcosm

**007** **"Tea As Microcosm"** by **Abraxas** 2009-05-18

Iroh watched the pot of water boil. He gazed, transfixed, at a network of bubbles rolling along the base of the kettle. At their violent, frenzied rise toward the surface. At their wet and gentle explosion. It seemed as if no two bubbles were alike - the paths they took and the fates they met at the end varied moment by moment - and it was a source of constant reflection.

A puff of steam burst into his face and with that smoke the old man recalled the object of his vigil.

"Zuko?"

The boy struggled to sleep. Hot with fever, restless and irritated, he jumbled the pillows under his head and flung the blankets off of the bed - their warmth and comfort rejected. Broken syllables of words that escaped his lips seemed to be the tortured fragmented confession of a soul.

Iroh brought the covers over Zuko and tucked the youth tightly to restrain his motion.

It needed to come out. All of the poison. Fever was the body's way to expel disease. And, although Zuko's illness was of a very different character, disease was disease.

Again the water called - its surface was a furious surge of foam erupting like a volcano.

The old man dropped a leaf into the pot. Its juices - yellow green - expanded and consumed the contents of the kettle. A calm overcame the torment and it was not water now it was tea.

Tea was the universe as microcosm. Fire boiled water. Water released air. All of it blending with a leaf, the fruit of the earth.

"What's happening, uncle?" the boy asked.

Iroh raised Zuko's head and brought a cup of tea onto his lips.

"Drink. Drink - and let it soothe you. Let it remind you of the balance of the elements. Do not fight it, Zuko, allow it to do its work. It is because this family rejects the nature of the world that you are troubled."

Connections. All kinds of connections. A web of connections. As if the world were just a point in space and time. So intimate was the union.

_Could it be_? he wondered.

Across realms of consciousness too subtle and inscrutable to measure, awareness inherited through Zuko's blood, could it be that the boy sensed the imbalance of the elements?

Iroh sat against a wall and watched Zuko sleep - he already lost a boy within that city and he would not lose another.

With each and every drop of sweat the poison that consumed the youth was expunged. He was strong enough to endure that purification. Already the fever eased. Yet that was not enough - the boy needed to take the final step alone. By his own free will.

Iroh vowed to wait as long as it took. Whatever path Zuko was destined to follow. He would not budge until his nephew was whole again.

**END**


	9. Hope Had Not Faded

**008** **"Hope Had Not Faded"** by **Abraxas** 2009-06-20

The fallen prince wandered through the alleys of Ba Sing Se shrouded only by anonymity. Ironic, if anticlimactic, that he could have melted so completely within a city of millions. He, destined to rule nations, just another face. Another refugee. Even the scar that branded treason elicited a passive if not apathetic reaction.

Iroh found a sense a peace within that prison and the remnants of a life it offered. But with Zuko it was not that simple. He was raging with conflict. He wanted to leave and fight his sister but knew the effort would be futile. He wanted to capture the Avatar to regain his honor but without his resources that too would be impossible.

So the boy wandered. The uncle only thought about tea and stories. It did not help. Like always he needed to solve this problem alone.

Exiled. Less than nothing and without hope to emerge out of obscurity. Life threatened to unwind through futility as the forgotten streets of the city seemed to spiral endlessly. A world of shadow and darkness - is that the only promise the future was able to keep?

The rage boiled and threatened to erupt.

_But there had to be purpose_! he shouted with his eyes at the clouds.

And then the veil parted and moonlight shined into a plaza beyond. A group of three youths were standing in front of a wall pasting a flyer. Zuko hid behind a corner to gaze without attracting attention. As soon as the gang appear it vanished, though, and again he was alone.

Coming out of the alley he was struck by what felt like a curious familiarity. The youths were too far to see clearly but their voices and their clothes. Impossible - _he_ would have noticed. It was a matter of habit to look at the sky whenever a shadow darkened the world. Just in case. No - it could not be - where was the bison if indeed.

Driven by spark of determination he feared extinguished, he rushed toward the wall with the flyer, out in the plaza where if they were around they could have seen and recognized what he was.

There, pasted backward. There, beneath trembling fingers. There was the answer! A point to the exile emerged like a sun through the night.

He tore off the flyer and walked, mindlessly, toward home.

It was the Avatar - hope had not faded.

**END**


	10. To Fight By You, Beneath You

**009** **"To Fight By You, Beneath YOu"** by **Abraxas** 2009-07-06

He was stifled. Flustered. And afraid of the red, hot blush. Shocked by a wave of self conscious almost adolescent anxiety, the paranoia of enshadowed eyes digging into the reaches of his soul, he shuffled toward the exit. Raising his collar. Donning his hat. Trying to act natural. Like nothing was wrong.

Everything was wrong!

A hand tapped his elbow.

"A great swordsman, don't you think, master?"

It was only Zhao.

Not a word but a smile, quick yet labored, answered the student.

By the gods that was close! The fool - Zhao - did not notice. Could it be that fear existed only within the mind? Yet he could not risk it. Another moment, another breath within that arena, and he would have swooned. All of his life he could not imagine anything like what he saw at the ring then and there that night. It overwhelmed his defenses and it routed whatever he thought he understood about himself. Yes, of course, it was repressed inside of the mind!

Jeong Jeong was a world weary traveler and familiar with almost every style of fighting. That swordsmanship displayed in front of his face - and the skill and the mastery - it was simply erotic. It was like a ritual mating dance of death. It was a beauty that touched the very masculine part of his essence and aroused a yearning he thought to be impossible!

"Oh, god," he thought, rubbing his eyes, "to waste such a talent on a woman - I have been blind since birth not to see that - only a man can appreciate what it is to be a man!"

And the worst part of it - beyond the sensuality of the movement - was the beauty of the warrior.

"Piandao!" he gasped under the sky, alone within the alley, "to fight by you, beneath you..."

**END**


	11. Metamorphosis

**010** **"Metamorphosis"** by **Abraxas** 2009-08-14

School was not what he remembered it to be. Of course, the last he set foot within a Fire Nation school, two hundred years ago, it was a different life. A different world, too, and by the spirits, what happened? Neither their travels across that globe nor all of Prince Zuko's warnings could have prepared the Avatar.

Buried within ancestral memory were the impressions of what a Fire Nation school used to be. They were organic, vibrant and alive, like fire. They allowed the learning to unfold like a game controlled by students' own inner drives. There was a universal acceptance of individuality that favored the unique above everything.

What Aang discovered, as the professor conducted a tour, was a window into a universe too corrupt to be the product of mere human depravity. It was engineered, perfectly, to alienate and induce that effect of the impersonal and distant. It was intended to kill the spirits of its captives - and they were subjecting children to it!

If a people were capable of doing that to its own children, clearly, they were capable of any kind of atrocity.

Suddenly, amidst the shock of the realization, the world the Fire Nation wanted to create was revealed within that school's walls.

Gone was the warmth of fire. It was replaced by the crude, artificial fluorescent. A veil of icy blue light tinted the interior of the building. It shivered the spine - that aura, he thought, it was the color of nightmare.

Teachers did not nurture, rather, they recited verbatim. Students were not allowed expression, instead, they were imprisoned by desks and assignments and sameness.

While he had been frozen, suspended like a butterfly inside its cocoon, the Fire Nation underwent a metamorphosis of its own. War was only its most outward and blatant manifestation. There were other aspects of the change that he did not consider until he met the enemy face to face.

Because it was not enough to kill the Avatar - no connection between the human and the spirit could be left alive. The extermination of the air nomads. The siege of the water tribes. The invasion of the earth kingdom. It was pretence leading into directions altogether infinitely more sinister and profound.

It was a war against bending itself.

The Fire Nation wanted to rid the world of its spirit. Bending! All of it - air, water, earth, even fire was slated to be expunged. They favored the physical over the spiritual as their society took equality to a level heretofore unknown - to a point, perhaps, where anything that suggested deviance was treated like disease.

A bender, then, was the ultimate form of deviance because not everyone could be.

But the yearning toward the spiritual could not be extinguished completely. People needed it like a food and drink. If faith was to be trumped by certainty then the Avatar needed to be replaced with another kind of figure. A man god? No, too much of a contradiction. A machine god? No, too distant. A man machine god? A bridge between the worlds of technology and biology. The Anti Avatar.

"Azula," he muttered under his breath.

"Kuzon," the professor said, pointing a grid of desks, "take a seat."

Aang nodded and shuffled through network of students.

Just as he sat there came the blast of a whistle. He grasped his shirt, ready to use his bending to break out of that classroom, at a moment's notice. It was not a danger, though, it was the start of a ceremony.

The windows shut. The lights dimmed. The image of Fire Lord Ozai was projected into the air at the front of the chamber. The teacher arose and the students copied. With the sound of the anthem playing along with the image everybody recited the pledge of citizenship.

"We believe in the ideal of equality. Equality binds us and strengthens us. Equality is Reason. Reason is Truth. Truth is the Fire that will not die..."

No voice dominated. No body raced or lagged. Uniform. Homogenous. The very act of its recital was a statement of its affirmation.

He faked it as much as possible. He mumbled but a few words here and there. All the while he committed it to memory in case he were to be singled out. He suspected communal embarrassment happened every so often to keep the students in check.

"I should have listened to Zuko," Aang thought - and wondered about how he was going to escape that school.

**END**


	12. Just Zuko And Sokka In A Balloon

**011** **"Just Zuko And Sokka In A Balloon"** by **Abraxas** 2009-09-13

The silence was punctuated by Zuko's blast of fire. The engine that powered the balloon required a steady supply of wood and fire. The constant vigil the prince gave it was overkill, though, only because it was not as awkward to deal with the machine than with the warrior.

Zuko could not help but fear a thoughtless, stray remark would be enough to give everything away. But it had been his idea to use the balloon. And it had been his idea to accompany the eskimo. Just like that. Like a bolt out of the blue. Did it not reveal something about his feelings?

Sokka seemed oblivious to the fire-bender's overtures yet the exile knew a gaze too long here and there and it would be impossible to hide his longing.

It was such a dreadful past between them that even Zuko's acceptance by Aang could not erase the awkwardness of it. Maybe if they were successful then they could be friends. And comfortable with each other. Maybe that would be a window through which to pursue a friendship of another kind.

Sokka was a warrior. He would have gotten it. Surely. He would have been exposed to it. And, perhaps, he might not be upset if such a bond were offered. The problem was that he was Zuko - the embodiment of the menace that chased the Avatar the better part of a year - to spark a bond there needed to be trust.

Like a secret only the knew about.

"Hey - what is it?" Zuko asked - he was so lost with thought he did not notice Sokka was shivering, hugging his clothes against his body.

"I think we're way too high," he replied, "it's really really cold."

"I'm sorry, Sokka, we need the cover." He shut the engine's port and walked toward the boy. "There could be ships below."

"Yeah... I guess..."

Zuko sat next to Sokka. All of a sudden he was aware of something new and different about the eskimo. He pretended not to see it. He was close to the boy and as his pulse raced his attention tended toward the sky above instead of the balloon below. But he let his gaze wander a moment and, again, he caught it. The warrior was just as nervous about eye to eye contact.

Their eyes danced around each other to avoid it.

Was Sokka thinking what Zuko was thinking too?

Together they remained still, body touching body, uncomfortable yet unwilling to break the contact.

It was Zuko who broke the tension - laying his left arm along Sokka's shoulders.

The tribesman jerked as if shocked out of a trance.

"It's to keep warm," the prince said, softly, "trust me."

The warrior nodded.

Zuko lay his right arm along Sokka's chest to complete the hug. Warmth oozed out of his skin. He squeezed. Then, when that was met without resistance, he massaged. They relaxed exchanging sighs although their pulses did not waver.

Soon Sokka's ear rested against Zuko's cheek.

"The fire," Zuko said, weakly, rubbing his eyes as though coming out of a dream. He stood and raced toward the engine. He fed the fire a few sticks of wood.

Meanwhile Sokka was left holding his (unfastened, discarded) shirt onto his chest trapping the heat.

The prince faced the warrior - that time their eyes did not dance around each other.

**END**


	13. Where War Cannot Reach

**012** **"Where War Cannot Reach"** by **Abraxas** 2009-09-20

The entrance of the tent flapped - the men jerked to look at it. It was only the flutter of a breeze. Warm, ocean air brushed their faces. They laughed at the absurdity of their reaction. They were not children caught in the act of a prank. They were adults, warriors, who earned the right to do as they pleased.

Bato slid a table until it silenced the entrance.

"And, as I was about to say, Sokka and Katara grew up a lot," the tribesman continued, gazing the chief.

"Yes," Hakoda sighed, "two years do that." His hand trembled, bandages passing between fingers back and forth, until his friend stopped it. "Bato..."

"Don't... It needed to be."

"You are injured, still, you stubborn snow tiger."

Bato laughed stifled a yelp as Hakoda tightened the wrap about his shoulder. The burn was only partially healed. The warrior had been too impatient to return to the front - and too proud to admit weakness. Even to the leader. Especially to the leader. That was not the way their relationship worked anyway.

At last it was Hakoda's whose tears sparkled in the slant of moonlight.

Bato gathered his friend into his arms, letting his head fall onto his lap, combing his mane with his fingers.

"Sokka preformed admirably, like his father," he whispered and added, proudly, "Katara is a strong water-bender."

Hakoda pressed his cheek against Bato's chest; the familiarity of its warmth, its scent soothed his spirit. He clutched onto the only part of his family that remained within reach. Even while he cursed the cruelty of war that separated the others. Some by distance. Some by realms of existence.

"Stay," Bato grasped Hakoda, "the war will not reach us tonight."

"Pretened to be boys, again," leader kissed warrior, "like it used to be."

**END**


	14. Villain! Know Thy Mark!

**013** **"Villain! Know Thy Mark!"** by **Abraxas** 2009-09-25

In the heart of Ba Sing Se a strange, mysterious figure lurks through the alleys. He waits amid shadow and darkness until the way is clear. He advances block by block in a crazed, zigzag pattern. The outward reflection of inward turmoil.

_Everywhere I go, he - he and those kids - follow! Those kids meddling, meddling kids those. I thought I would be at peace in Ba Sing Se but no corner of the world is free of that Avatar!_

The figure grasps the edge of hut and peeks - his eyes agape, his chest obscured by a sack.

_My cabbages! Oh! Oh! Oh! My cabbages._

Oh, you splattered spreading juices like blood! They went too far. Oh, the love and care and love and affection I gave you wasted rotting, underfoot, atop the street! You were meant to be a feast. Oh, the cry of my cabbages! I suffer your epic wails of doom in my nightmares.

Oh, be still you moist lips of green - hush your shrieks tonight - your fears will be soothed.

The small, invisible man lifts the sack to his face, presses its contents to his lips.

_Tonight your fellows will be revenged_!

The sounds of voices echo through the doorway. The house is not empty and the man struggles to complete the task undetected. He sets the sack in front of the entrance. Like a magician revealing a trick he pulls off the cover exposing the cabbage. He strikes a match and lets the fire consume the leaves.

The stranger pounds the entrance and runs into the alley. A tall, lean boy answers the call along with the Avatar. Immediately they catch sight of the burning patch of grocery and together they stomp, squishing, squashing.

"Villain! Know thy mark..." he mocks while the kids wipe their feet.

**END**


	15. Twisted

**014** **"Twisted"** by **Abraxas** 2010-01-03

Their clothes intermingled atop the snow - Sokka's next to Katara's - they dipped into the spring.

It struck again and again it came anew.

That look of fear, alien to her father's face, as the snow about her feet discolored. She was whisked into a hut while her brother cried. Maybe, if her mother lived, the sight would have soothed not traumatized.

Change - painful, bloody ordeal.

It happened too young yet the power grew afterward.

Would that it could be bent away.

"You OK?" asked Sokka.

She lay her head against his shoulder and breathed - her emotions twisted like her face.

**END**


	16. What Are You Dreaming, Avatar?

**015** **"What Are You Dreaming, Avatar"** by **Abraxas** 2010-01-03

The others did not stir when Aang awoke. Breathless. Drenched with sweat. It was not a nightmare yet there was a rush of fear as curious wet sensation followed.

Again he looked about - the chamber was empty except Momo who lounged about the window.

He reached into the blanket. It was damp between his legs but it was not what he feared. It was a new and different wetness. Yet another change - a long, twisted history of change he wanted to wish away.

If only Gyatso were alive; instead of joy it was dread of comets that filled his mind.

**END**


	17. Kiss And Makeup

**016** **"Kiss And Makeup"** by **Abraxas** 2010-01-04

Lips locked cheek and tasted its skin. Hands reached to embrace the warmth of the body. Seeking. Fumbling. Driven by the urge to explore another boy's body.

Everything was stopped by Sokka's arm shoved onto Zuko's chest.

"Zuko..."

Despite the violence, the punch was only to avert the contact, the voice betrayed a breath of emotions incompressible into words.

A whistle blew - above the prisoners were let out of their cells.

"Let's not be enemies..."

Within that chamber breaths raced jaggedly. Cloaked by shadow and darkness, a hand found a swath of skin, an arm withdrew its restraint. Slowly. Nervously.

**END**


	18. Waterbender

**017** **"Water-Bender"** by **Abraxas** 2010-01-05

She slept by father - not mother. She did not trust mother after abandonment that night when the bed jerked - she cried 'mommy' to a void that only kicked away.

Father was always there. Kissing. Holding - tenderly if tightly. Even when the bed was tormenting his body.

She was scared of the shaking. So violent, random. But father was happy when it finished. And his sweaty, breathless kiss soothed the fear.

She wished the world could be just them together especially after mother died - abandoned father too.

"My little water-bender."

She giggled while he smiled, her hands wet.

Father was hers.

**END**


	19. FireWater

**018** **"Fire/Water"** by **Abraxas** 2010-01-06

Zuko did not agree with winter.

Long, dark nights. Cold everywhere. And too many layers.

Maybe it was fair - summer had been rough to Katara. Except that time at Ember Island. She flourished at the beach. And that was not everything that changed.

The water-girl was simply beautiful especially when chased about the globe - and that thought lead to -

"Caught you!"

The fire-boy was grabbed by the wrists and thrust onto the floor

"Caught you!"

Before a protest was uttered, lips locked lips.

Getting warmer than firebending allowed, he said: "Oh, that's why I like the South Pole..."

**END**


	20. A Quiet Night Of Zukka

**019** **"A Quiet Night Of Zukka"** by **Abraxas** 2010-01-09

Zuko traced Sokka's cheek aching to explore its textures, its contours. He teased the warrior's stubby goatee. Then his touching resumed its ever downward spiral. While it was pitch the fire-boy's feeling revealed the beauty of the water-boy's body.

There were no clothes that night - the tropical hot air was their blanket.

A smile came to Sokka's face when Zuko reached the destination.

And warrior embraced ruler triumphantly.

Zuko rested against Sokka contently. At peace. As if a void had been filled.

What a year it was, he thought. They started enemies and ended entwined flesh to flesh.

**END**


	21. Curiosity

**020** **"Curiosity"** by **Abraxas** 2010-01-09

She was curious about it. Just a look. What harm could it be? Anyway, he couldn't resist that smile.

She kissed, hugged - "Best brother ever..."

It whet the appetite.

"Just a touch..."

She was so, so happy - maybe it's why he caved. She wasn't that happy. Since the Southern Raider's attacked.

Alone they were safe.

"Wait a bit, though, a bit...almost ready."

He fumbled with the front of his pants.

It became a ritual as resistance crumbled with each and every session until he offered it freely.

He kissed her cheek while the boat rocked beneath: "Best sister ever."

**END**


	22. Caught Red Handed

**021** **"Caught Red Handed"** by **Abraxas** 2010-02-09

Sokka caught Katara behind a stack of crates.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She shhhh'ed - and threw a look that sent a shiver through his body.

Clearly the sister was up to something and the brother wanted a piece of it.

He knelt in front of a wall of canvas. A few holes had been poked through that fabric separating the chambers of the tent. They were just large enough to peek through. He looked.

"It's Hakoda," she explained.

Sokka jerked shocked.

"Katara - you shouldn't be seeing that!"

She shhhh'ed.

He blushed. Sweat dripped. He could not believe it. And that she was watching it, too, enjoying it.

"Relax. See his face? Like he's about to cry. He's really, really getting into it."

"Katara..."

Sokka's eyes were splattered by the light leaking out of the hole.

"He swells a lot. Wow! He goes crazy too. Wow! Wow! Wow!"

She bounced with excitement.

He thought they were so, so dead.

Sokka was confused about what to be afraid of. That he saw that? That she saw that? By the gist of it a lot. Enough to know all of the little ways their father's body...reacted.

"It's just awesome when it happens. I learned a lot about boys," she said, whispering into his ear. "I love watching how he works it. It's so fascinating the way it changes and how it works and everything." She pressed her face against his cheek in a hug. "It's almost like I know what happens to you there."

"Girls are not supposed to know that stuff." He gasped - she stifled a giggle. "These are...are...are men secret stuff."

"Aren't you just a little curious?" She kissed his cheek - he turned red with embarrassment. "Awe, Sokka."

Gods, it was like his world went topsyturvy.

**END**


	23. Katara Rapist

**022** **"Katara - Rapist"** by **Abraxas** 2010-02-10

Sokka was scared by the face Katara used. A mixture of wicked and determined. An expression shot like a weapon whenever he said that boys were better than girls. But as he walked into the tent. And as he unpeeled the parka. There had not been as much as a word shared between them - and already she was mad at him!

She grabbed his arms by the elbows. He gulped wondering if it was too late to run. It had been yet another dismal day of fishing without a catch and now brother did not want to deal with sister's unwarranted ire. Maddened ire. Frenzied ire!

He was about to speak. She was ready to strike. All of a sudden she pushed and he fell. The turf was unsteady and slippery and again he fell yelping with shock while trying to scramble. She jumped onto his body smothering and pinning his legs with her knees on his thighs. He grabbed her shoulders - he did not want to hurt the girl but he wanted to break free. She ignored his hands - she was not deterred, though, by that token resistance.

A smile came to her and then that face returned - complete with tongue poking lips - she was thinking about a problem.

A wild look of shock came to him and then he froze.

Sokka watched what happened as if disembodied unable to accept that it happened yet knowing it was true.

Katara yanked his belt and tugged his pants by the waist.

He could not stop it. It was too late. He watched, tearing without crying.

She caught a glimpse of it. Maned by tufts of hair. Tiny. Soft. She bounced its tip with a finger while giggling.

Katara stood and ran out of the tent leaving behind a traumatized Sokka...

**END**


	24. A Scene At The Spa

**023** **"A Scene At The Spa"** by **Abraxas** 2010-02-10

Zuko cupped a handful of water and let it leak through the gaps between his fingers. The juice of the spa, heated by bending, glided across foamy, bubbly soap and washed it away to reveal tan, smooth skin. He repeated that act to rinse the rest of the chest. Until touch revealed Sokka was washed.

The water tribe warrior just stood as it happened.

The spa did not reach his waist - it left regions of skin below naked and exposed.

The prince of fire gazed at those suggestions of anatomies tantalized by the splashing, lapping waves.

Sokka reached Zuko and touched palm to cheek. The movement, coarse up and down, repeated as if he were erasing a spot of dirt across that face. Then he combed his fingers through that wild, unkempt hair.

It urged a smile out of that face.

"I got a prince to smile," the peasant teased.

Zuko blushed and Sokka thought he looked so vulnerable all of a sudden - it awoke the need to hold and protect the boy.

The exile crept toward the native. The warrior met his friend with a hand on his shoulder and a hand on his back. Steadily, they drew into each other's body. They looked down as their skin kissed, flesh to flesh, below the water.

Zuko asked with eyes and Sokka replied with nods. Zuko's chin came to Sokka's shoulder and their hands explored their backs. Their cheeks rubbed. Their lips quivered searching as it were for each other.

A clump of dirt splashed.

"What are you two doing?"

Caught - they backed away.

"Nothing..." Sokka said, weakly.

"Yeah..." Zuko added, anxiously.

Zuko noticed the native's butt and aimed to raise his friend's shorts - then recalled Toph could not see.

"As if you two are innocent!" she said and jumped.

**END**


	25. Boys Are Weird

**024** **"Boys Are Weird"** by **Abraxas** 2010-02-10

A rod was set - its wire snaked into the water behind the boat.

Katara fumbled with a lure. Sokka helped with the bait. They set that rod and watched it get caught by a current. They worked on another pair of rods.

The boat drifted between islands where white snow bled into black rock.

The sister and brother sat face to face, knee against knee, while they floated through a field of ice.

Sokka pedalled his feet onto the edge of the seat she used. Katara raised her eyebrow against him. He reclined, arms netted behind head. She gazed, pursing her lips and cocking her head.

"Boys are weird," she said.

He replied with a smirk - then let his legs start to embrace her body.

A wire rubbed against the boat. The jagged edge of wood plucked the twine to a lazy, chaotic rhythm. It sounded like an instrument.

Katara watched Sokka. She giggled, her hands pressing against her lips, as she noticed his spurt of growth. He lowered the waist of his pants, his anticipation showing through his face, as he popped out of his cover in front of her eyes.

He smiled as his legs crossed at his ankles - drawing his sister closer and closer. He shut his eyes. Shaking. Arching. As he stroked.

A stream of ice flowed by the boat.

A rod jiggled as it caught a fish.

Katara held her brother's hand by its fingers - its palm was wet and sticky.

"You're the best sister, ever, ever, Katara," Sokka said, panting and gasping, his face reddened, his eyes teared.

She patted his tip with her finger then gave it a peck.

He shivered at that contact and returned the kiss with a taste of salt.

"Put it away before you catch a cold," she teased.

**END**


	26. The Story About The Socks

**025** **"The Story About The Socks"** by **Abraxas** 2010-04-20

Sokka always knew his father and would-be uncle shared a whole lot of adventures together. But just a little of it was shared. And the rest remained shrouded by mystery.

They promised to tell - it wasn't kept.

Sokka _knew_ they were hiding something and as he studied his heroes that instinct became fact. Winks. Nods. Looks. The vague, broken speech whenever children neared. All of it betrayed a secret.

Sokka was frustrated by the evasiveness - in a fit he stormed into their bedroom without a knock and jumped onto the blanket between them.

It was curiosity mixed with determinism that impelled him to be observant and that was why he noticed the socks!

The socks were stuffed into the boots and reeked - and it wasn't ordinary. He took them and studied them but they didn't seem to be wrong. Maybe a little moist. It was new and different and it killed him not to know what it was about!

That night Sokka crawled through the tent as the world slept. He found the boots by the entrance. They were not 'sock'ed. He crawled onward toward the bedroom, careful to avoid the moonlight.

He peeked into the chamber - everything was lit like a dream but he struggled to make sense of what he saw.

They were naked. Hakoda atop the mattress, legs behind shoulders, butt waving about the air. Batto knelt in front of that sight. They moaned and groaned and spewed a string of obscenities. Batto tugged at something that dangled off of Hakoda's ass. Slowly - he stretched it until he freed it.

Sokka paled and spun and staggered.

Gods! How he wished he hadn't yielded to curiosity. He wished it was a dream but reality couldn't be denied. Hakoda and Batto - were pulling socks out of their asses!

**END**


	27. Rebel The Flesh

**026** **"Rebel The Flesh"** by **Abraxas** 2010-07-10

That July was a swelter. Throughout the march the men were killed more by exhaustion than by rebellion. Even snipers could not match the tenacity of the mosquitoes. Morale, too, fell by disease.

Piandao waited under the branches of the oak which served as landmark. It was the dead of night. Above the sky sparkled with the stars. Below the valley was a mirror as campfires glowed their warm, dusky color.

It had been a direct if arduous task to climb the hill. Treading through areas unknown and hostile. Filled with the Yankee no doubt. But the Indian said it was safe and he trusted that.

A shrub rustled and out of that void emerged Jeong Jeong. The pitch could not obscure the figure. A mohawk, white, shaped like a row of feathers. The skull shaved. Adornments of ivory at the lip, ear, neck contradicted the tone of the flesh. Clothes that revealed instead of concealed completed everything.

Piandao approached the warrior. Words were not exchanged. Instead hands met hands. Fingers interlocked. Then, after a few jittery attempts, they locked lip to lip. It was electric. What embarked with their escape at Ticonderoga climaxed at that moment of intimacy where it was just two men, hard and aching for each other, culture be damned.

"Do you?" asked Jeong Jeong with an exotic British accent - a relic of the Seven Years War.

"I do," replied Piandao.

They squeezed their hands. An odd sense of warmth pass from Senecan to Briton. They brought their sacks onto their shoulders. A smile flashed between them as they started the trek.

Their journey from civilization to wilderness began without delay. Of course it was a wilderness to Piandao, it was a home to Jeong Jeong. The Indian understood that terrain and did not need a lantern to show the way. The warrior anticipated its course, turn by turn, a testament to experience.

It was important to break out of the camp. Piandao's desertion would be noted. Jeong Jeong's absence might or might not be. Much of the Indian division was lost anyway. Yet the companionship they shared that everyone seemed aware of could have stirred a suspicion that something worthy of investigation happened.

The only chance at freedom was to go west across the river then vanish within the frontier. Then their distance would be too great. Then they would not be followed.

They reached the Hudson where it narrowed and faced its course - a village nearby meant a boat would be available.

As they stood a cool summer breeze stirred the banks and their breaths were visible.

Jeong Jeong grasped Piandao, spun him, embraced him. Tight enough that sweat and paint smeared between them. The Indian exuded a warmth that was just beyond human and filled the Briton such that the chill vanished.

"You stoke a fire within me, my white love, and it consumes me to madness."

"Let me help you," Piandao offered with kisses that trekked from lips, to chest, and below.

**END**


	28. Katara And Sokka Have Two Daddies

**027** **"Katara And Sokka Have Two Daddies?"** by **Abraxas** 2010-07-31

Alone - the girl snuggled next to the boy.

Sokka grumbled half in and out of sleep.

"Katara...eh, it's midnight," he protested with a yawn.

But she clasped the edge of the blanket. And she yanked it from his chin to his waist. He tried to recover. She yanked it again. Then she tickled where she felt a patch of rough, curly hair. Then he struggled just to keep that torture away.

"Why aren't you making those muscles at me?" she teased the tan, sleek chest she exposed.

She brushed her tips against his nipples. Swirling. Pinching. Enjoying their strange, rugged flesh.

Sokka tried to say no but Katara kept going on and on.

"We really need to stop," he eked as if afraid to speak too loud.

"Relax." Giggling - knowingly - sister reclined along brother. She watched her own rhythmic massage of his nipples, enjoying the sight and feel of them stiffening beneath her touch. "Don't you have something more for me to play with?"

He gasped, blushing - glowing - red as she brushed her tongue around and around his chest.

"Katara...I've got to get up early - to hunt - to fish - you know." He squirmed and tried to hide the tent between his legs by bunching the blanket there. "You got chores too!"

Damn - Katara was good at games like that! Even though he tried to not want it. His body could not resist the play. And inch by lengthening, hardening inch, his flesh betrayed him!

"Katara - wait..."

He rolled his eyes and shivered from head to toe when she brought that massage below the blanket.

"Katara - no..."

She exposed his penis. She examined its skin, base to tip to base forward and backward. Lovingly soaking up its details. Noting where it was curved. Its pattern of its colorations. Its softness. Its hardness. And then she turned her exploration toward his foreskin, yanking it back and forth.

She cooed those discoveries and commentaries into his ear.

"Well...isn't this part so, so dark...and I never noticed how rough you were there...oh, oh, is it sensitive there, Sokka? I can feel it get so hard when I do that..."

"You play the strangest game with me, Katara... You need to stop..."

"Stop? Don't you mean 'more, please, more'? That's how Hakoda and Batto play it."

"You...watch...them? Oh, god, wait..."

"Batto and Hakoda..."

"Wait..."

But the sudden volumes of wetnesses that exploded out of swollen, hot flesh through his sister's tight, merciless grip. That splattered his stomach, streamed and hit the blanket, the floor. All of it announced that it was too late to fight.

"Katara!" Sokka kissed her lips adding another kind of slobber to her face. "Let's play again? Please! Please! Please!"

"Wow - a third time?" She bent down, until face to face with his waist, where he shrivelled while she looked. She kissed her brother's tip. It was sticky and sensitive enough to illicit a gasp. "You get me so wet when I rape you!"

**END**


	29. It Belongs To You

**028** **"It Belongs To You"** by **Abraxas** 2010-08-06

A knock rattled Sokka.

"What?" He grumbled, groggy, looking left and right. He arose - to realize everything was exposed. "Coming!" Shirts could not be found. Boxers lay where they had been tossed. He grabbed it and struggled, hopping up and down, just to get them up his waist.

_Who could it be at that time of night_? he wondered - even at a dorm it did not seem right.

Behind the door was - nobody. The hallway was empty and dim and quiet. Except at the end of the passage where a TV played. Maybe a couple of geeks played WoB. A typical Wednesday at BSSU.

_I imagined it_?

Then - a glimpse revealed it. A bag. Crumpled. Left at the base of the door. And not a clue about who did it.

It was the climax of a night that started with _the call_. A regular almost mundane event. Who could it be? Zuko loved to tease about Sokka's very special fan. Somebody was obsessed with the Inuit. The strange part was what, exactly, he or she got out of it. That nobody understood.

Anyway...that night it went too far.

That call - and its silence announced what it was.

"Eh, [i+[you, again? Who is this? How do you get off? Is it the sound of my voice calling you a cunt? You sick dumb fuck! Is it that simple? Don't you want to rape my body and everything? My hard, tan body? Ha! Ha! I bet you just wanna look at it - you can't, you can't - and it must be killing you that you can't see it and touch it. But I can touch it. Yeah. Tough it all over. And I mean all over. All over those places you imagine and those places you can't imagine. Even those everyday places. Yeah - there goes the shirt. There you go - you six-pack of awesome! You want it..."

"Yes..."

The voice formed out of a whisper and sounded like a breath instead of a word.

Sokka's own moaning and groaning drowned that reply as a tent grew between his legs.

_Oh, well, if it's gonna get hard like that...what's the sense letting it go to waste_?

"I got you something my special creepy breathy phone friend. Yeah, I it's all hard and big and it's standing at attention. All eight inches of hard, southern water tribe cock. Don't you want it ramming in and out of your orifices?"

A rumble came through the phone - the sound of male pleasure - echoed by Sokka.

"I'm jacking off - hear it? I'm so so so swollen! Oh, god, I want to explode! Oh, god!"

The phone slipped out of his hands.

"Maybe it went too far..."

All that remained was bag. A brown paper bag. Seared at the edges. It must have been from somebody at the dorm.

There was a note: "it belongs to you," it read.

Sokka tore it asunder - the content tumbled onto his lap - a sock soaked with warm fresh cum.

**END**


	30. I Can See Forever!

**029** **"I Can See Forever!"** by **Abraxas** 2010-09-25

What a request!

She could not understand it let alone why she agreed to help. She was not broke and did not need the payment. She was bored, though, it seemed like a way to break that boredom of everything.

Still - the woman asked the man to repeat it.

He was elated. She was afraid. That it was about to happen then and there at the middle of the street. Instead, they wandered into a tavern. It felt safe at the inn despite what they were about to do.

"It should be private," she mused.

The flat. Ceiling - cracked. Walls - bare. Floor - dusty. A window overlooked the alley. And somewhere beneath layers of details oozed a smell whose nature suggested a universe of disease. It was the perfect venue, she thought, to pursue that adventure.

"People come and go," he explained, "they won't be alarmed by the noise."

She sat on a chair across the bed.

"So...what...grandpa?"

The man smiled. Off went the shirt. Off went the pants. Faster than she thought a man that age was able.

She fanned her face.

The man was, as she feared, not ready...

"Would it help if I showed you?"

"No!" He took her hands out of her cleavage. "You are here to watch."

The man sat at the edge of the bed in front of the woman. His legs were wide. His cock and balls were droopy. He produced a cabbage and rubbed it against his genitals - which by degrees began to expand.

She watched his face. Eyes shut. Lips crooked. There were flashes of grins betweens gasps. It looked like he was struggling against a great weight. She giggled at the thought of his shaft being a great weight.

He took the cabbage away to show how the massage urged his erection.

She stifled a yawn.

"My cabbages!" he shouted. "They make me grow big and hard..."

She blinked - then yawned - realizing why the man needed to ask a stranger. You did not want a friend of any kind knowing that about you.

He rammed the cabbage into his rod, burying his shaft between its leaves. It was like stabbing the vegetable. Going faster and faster.

"My cabbages!"

It dropped onto the floor.

"Stomp my cabbages!"

She stood and pounded the cabbage into a lump of green.

"Oh, gods, oh, oh, oh, my cabbages!"

He jerked, tense and tight, shaking...as a wad of white formed like a tear at the tip of his cock. It grew and fell with a splat onto the cabbage - adding its own spice to that salad the woman made with her feet.

She touched the tip - the contact urged another drop of cum.

"I can see forever!" he exclaimed through orgasm. Then he rolled his eyes and he shook his knees. And he fell backward onto the bed.

"Crazy old man..."

She grabbed a sack of cash.

"Jun," she said, walking out of the tavern, vanishing into the night, "you've just seen everything."

**END**


	31. XOXOXO Version 1

**030** **"XOXOXO - Version 1"** by **Dr. Abraxas** 2011-01-07

Aang awoke with a start as if erupting out of a nightmare. Gradually, breath by breath, he resettled onto bed and the room came into focus. It was then that he noticed _something_ was gone.

All about the chamber was the evidence to a confession of passion. Clothes - that had been tugged and ruffled and scattered. Furniture - that had been jostled about as though a tornado ripped through the bedroom. Even the sheets were half-on, half-off the mattress until, at last, they slipped away completely.

He gazed as the rising rays of sun illuminated the world. He was naked and erect, warmed only by that Fire Nation summer. Smudges of white adorned where the silky rim of his foreskin stretched around the rough texture of his glans. Its paint glistened like dew freshly fallen. Retracting that hood of flesh. Examining that knob of shaft. He saw that those smudges formed the impression of a kiss.

The Avatar almost climaxed as the reality of yesterday returned.

* * *

"You mean you've never, ever, never been with a girl?"

Nervous, Aang nodded, blushed ... looked away. "Not even Katara."

Ty Lee did not waste a word and with a frenzy dragged the Avatar through the house until they settled within that chamber.

They were alone as the falling light of evening glimmered through a window spreading its red, orange light against their faces. The girl exposed a teat and encouraged its molestation with word and posture. The boy latched a palm onto that nipple and fondled its skin. It felt warm and the curiosity it inspired demanded more and more attention to its details.

She smiled, giggling and contorting her legs about his waist in ways he did not imagine were possible. He realized yet did not care that his erection poked her thigh. She was fascinated with the shapes of his arrows and teased and fussed about his tattoos. He pressed more and more of his tip and shaft into the heat between her legs.

Then she seized it.

* * *

Wiping the sweat off of his brow, Aang blushed at what happened after their fumbling hands explored their bodies.

Ty Lee was working him so fast, enjoying every part of his virginity and its corruption.

_"I... I was like... Floating!" she gasped as he, exhausted, settled his face onto her chest._

Aang found a note atop that pillow still indented.

"Sorry - I got to go - Kyoshi Warrior Duties! See ya around, Aangie! XOXOXO"

Alone, his sex dribbling and deflating, he almost vowed not to wash away that kiss.

**END**


	32. XOXOXO Version 2

**031** **"XOXOXO - Version 2"** by **Dr. Abraxas** 2011-01-07

Aang awoke - alone - yet everywhere remained evidence of a very, very fast night. Furniture tumbled. Clothes scattered.

With the sheet off the mattress, his erection stood hard, exposed. A smudge of white formed the impression of a kiss where his foreskin stretched around his glans. The paint glistened like dew freshly fallen.

_"Never with a girl?"_

Aang nodded.

Ty Lee did not waste time.

They snuck into a closet. The girl exposed. The boy blushed. She smiled, contorting into shapes he did not imagine possible. He explored, shaking as she fussed about his arrows.

The tip of his erection poked onto her thigh - then - her hand.

Ty Lee worked fast, enjoying his virginity and its corruption.

"I ... was ... floating," she gasped.

The Avatar found the note between his legs - its ink wet.

"I got to go ... Kyoshi Warrior Duties! See ya around, Aangie! XOXOXO"

Dribbling. Deflating. He vowed not to wash the kiss.

**END**


	33. Today I'm On Holiday

**"Today I'm On Holiday"** by **Dr. Abraxas** 2011-07-26

Piandao turned and sunk a little into that mattress until propped against Jeong Jeong. As twilight filled the window the universe was reduced to an explosion of sensation ignited by that clash of their white and red flesh. Skin naked, male - pressing and embracing together.

Stirred, the Iroquois clasped the Colonial at the waist.

"Time to wake?" asked brave.

"Hmmm," sighed frontiersman.

Piandao smiled and reached wickedly into wetter and warmer realms of forbidden Indian territory where the scent of the night of love remained.

Jeong Jeong moaned - a captive of his own body's reaction...

"Today ... I'm on holiday..."

**END**


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